


Here for the Cake

by Dresupi



Series: Dramione [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically there's cake, Birthday Sex, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Good Draco Malfoy, Kitchen Sex, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Minor Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Minor food play, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Smut, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 18:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/pseuds/Dresupi
Summary: It's Draco's birthday and besides his mother, Hermione's the only one who remembers.  He basically gets to have his cake and eat it too.  ;)  All in all, a nice birthday.  ;)Set post second war, not epilogue compliant in the slightest.  Hermione owns a bookshop, Draco rents the office upstairs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JanetSnakehole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanetSnakehole/gifts).



> Ummmm, basically I got prompted 'Cake' for Dramione by the lovely JanetSnakehole, and what was supposed to be a six sentence ficlet turned into this 6k monstrocity. But it works out bc this is a birthday gift! Yay, birthdays! 
> 
> I'm a terrible human and this isn't Britpicked OR betaed. *GASP* 
> 
> I just wanted to get this up here. So bear that in mind when you read it. ;) 
> 
> Also, first full fic for this fandom or pairing. Be gentle with me, please? <3

All in all, Draco had to say…it was his favourite birthday.  

It didn’t start out that way, but favourites seldom start out as favourites, he supposed. 

* * *

 

He went to work.  Because it was a Tuesday.  And he always worked on Tuesdays, birthdays or no.  It was raining, which certainly put a damper on his mood immediately.  He also woke up alone.  He always woke up alone, but for some reason, it was worse on one’s birthday.  

The manor was completely empty, save for the few house elves that refused to leave and just wouldn’t be tricked into accepting clothing.  With Father serving a life’s term in Azkaban and Mother off at the summer house in Scotland, his family home was sort of thrust into his hands.  Nobody really wanted the bloody place.  It had too many bad memories.  

He couldn’t give it away.  Literally no one wanted it.  It had sat on the market, the price getting marked lower and lower and lower until he just took it off again.  

He stayed at the office occasionally if he didn’t want to go home.  If even entering through the doorway became too much of an effort.  

But he hadn’t stayed at the office last night.  No, he’d come home.  And he woke up alone in his bedroom.  With no sun streaming into his window and nothing to greet him except a tray of tea and a letter from Mother.  A card, as it turned out.  Some store bought thing wishing him many happy returns and a repeat of her standing invitation to come visit her in Scotland.  He very nearly went up a few times for a simple change of scenery, but he never did.  No matter how different the scenery, his mother was still there.  And as much as he loved her, he knew they got along better long distance than they did in close quarters.  

She loved him too, he knew that.  But the subject of Father inevitably came up and that’s when the fighting started.  He’d just as soon forget his abominable relation, but Mother wanted him to visit the man.  For what, he didn’t know.  

So, he stayed away from both parents.  Stayed away from almost everyone, in fact.  Save his clients.  And obviously…Granger.  

He had no choice but to see her, really.  With her owning the book shop below his office and all.  It was rather quaint, he’d been told.  Him owning a small accounting firm that he ran alone out of the top floor of the building she owned.  

He  _ kept _ books.  She  _ sold _ books.  It was all very adorable.  

Apparently.  

He supposed maybe it was.  He didn’t like to admit it, but Granger of all people had been the only one to reach out a hand when he needed help.  Back when he’d finished school and instead of going into law like his mother wanted, or becoming an Auror like Father had wanted…he became an accountant.  Doing boring old taxes and figures.  Of course, he couldn’t find a single firm in town who would hire him, given his last name.   Likewise for property managers.  No one would rent him office space.  

Except Granger.  She’d apparently come into some small fortune, being one of the Golden Trio of war heroes and all.  She’d bought a building right on Diagon Alley and set up a book shop.  He didn’t know why it surprised him.  She spent all her spare time in one anyway, she might as well own one and make money off it.  

Anyway, the building had an upstairs, and it was his for a very low monthly fee.  Very low.  He’d be insulted if he wasn’t doing her books for free as well.  

She kept meticulous records, so it was actually almost too easy to do her books.  She could likely do it herself, but it was another one of those things he didn’t think about very deeply.  The muggles said something about not looking a gift horse in the mouth.  And while he didn’t completely understand the analogy, he took it to mean you didn’t ask too many questions about gifts or favors.  

After it had become apparent that selling the manor wasn’t going to happen, he’d used a large chunk of his sizable trust fund to pay for the repairs and complete remodeling of the Manor so he could even stand to live in it, the rest went to Mother so she could live comfortably.  Father had left her with a mountain of debts, so what little of her family money she had went to that.   

As it was, Draco was left to having to make a living for himself, which wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.  He rather liked it, it gave him some small sense of purpose.        

He took his tea in bed and read the Prophet, not really seeing anything of note in its pages.  Something about Saint Potter and the Weasel side-kick of his.  Aurors, the both of them.  He couldn’t thank his past self enough for not giving Auror training a second thought.  

He didn’t hate them anymore, but that didn’t mean they didn’t annoy the everlasting bollocks out of him.  

Granger, though.  Granger wasn’t half bad.  She invited him out to lunch most days, or brought something up to him when he was busy.  And he’d do the same for her when he was able.  Her little book shop got quite a bit of business being where it was.  It was no Flourish and Blotts, she didn’t sell everyday novels or school books.  It was his understanding that she catered to a different sort of clientele.  Those with a discerning eye for advanced reading, hard to find editions, antique spell books and foreign literature.  And he did her books.  She might not have the foot traffic, but she could make one sale and be set for the month.  And when she  _ did _ get foot traffic?  

Suffice it to say, Granger wasn’t hurting.  She knew her product and people knew her name.  She’d done rather well for herself.

If someone had told him ten years before that he’d be working in close proximity to Hermione Granger and basically, happy about it?  He’d have called them daft and pushed them into a wall.  But, the truth of it was, he’d grown rather fond of her.  He liked looking in through the front window of her shop in the mornings and seeing her there.  

Regardless of his circumstances, he definitely had a choice in the matter.  And he chose, time and again, to spend time with the woman whose nose was more often than not buried in a book.  And it wasn’t for any noble purpose.  It wasn’t because he had no one else, because Draco was NOT a hapless wallflower.  

No, it was because he genuinely liked her company.  With her frizzy hair and her snarky remarks.  Her book recommendations that he’d just learned to start taking, because she had a sixth sense about that sort of thing.  And while she mostly had her nose in a book, there were the odd moments where she didn’t.  And Draco rather liked counting the freckles that spread across it. 

It wasn’t perfect, his life.  But with Granger in it, it was almost bearable.  Of course, he didn’t know how she felt about him.  For all he knew, she could think of him as some annoying tennant.  A way to pass the time.  She wasn’t dating anyone…he’d seen Weasley and Potter come around with their wives.  She never even so much as mentioned anyone else.  Once, Longbottom had started coming around everyday around the same time and Draco’s stomach had heaved in panic.  But it turned out that he was after some rare herbology tome that Hermione had ordered from somewhere or another.  He simply came by the shop to check until it arrived.  

Not Draco’s proudest moment, that one.  Panicking over Neville Longbottom.  It had, however, been the first time that he’d admitted to himself that he had feelings for Hermione Granger.  Stronger than friend feelings.  But, he really shouldn’t have been surprised.  He  _ was _ the git who sat around waiting to count her freckles.

One would think that a smart chap like he was would start limiting the time he spent with the lovely bookshop owner, but one would be wrong.  If anything, he spent more time with her.  He’d never ever admit his feelings to her, he’d put her through enough abuse in school to ever give it a second thought.  

She wasn’t for him.  

Hell, as much as he despised the thought, Longbottom would be a better pick.  Longbottom was a hero.  

Draco was a reformed war criminal who owned and lived in a house where she’d been tortured.  How she could even find it within herself not to spit in his face on a daily basis, he’d never know.  She was a good person.  Better than he was.  And she deserved so much better than him.           

He arrived at work, too late to pop into the shop and say hello, so he simply waved through the front window as he opened up the door to the stairs.  He took them two at a time, entering his office and flicking his wand to open the curtains.  He sent the feather duster around to dust in the corners like he always did in the mornings before taking a seat at the desk.  He slapped his briefcase down on the desk and sighed as he looked around.  

“Happy Birthday to me…” he muttered to the empty room. 

* * *

 

Hermione had wanted to catch him before he started for the day, but he was a few minutes later than he usually was.  He’d waved on his way up.  His blond hair a sharp contrast to the black robes he always wore.  He was wearing the green tie today. Which made sense, it was his birthday and the green was his favourite.  

At one time, she might have hated how in tune with Malfoy’s routine she was, but she almost thought of him as a friend these days.  As strange as that was. 

At times, she was more comfortable with him than she was with Harry or Ron.  (Or Ginny or Lavender, if she was being honest).  She had nothing to add to discussions about family and children.  She had her mum and her dad in London, but she wasn’t married, wasn’t seeing anyone, and definitely didn’t have children.  And while she adored being Aunt Hermione, she wasn’t exactly the best source of information or advice on the subject.  

And sometimes?  Sometimes, she just wanted to be quiet.  Not alone, but quiet.  And that had been something Harry and Ron had never understood.  In fact, it had been one of the reasons she and Ron just hadn’t ever clicked.   

And Draco was fine to come down and sit with her over lunch while she read.  He’d bring her lunch or she’d go out and get it.  Sometimes they ate it at the restaurant together.   Sometimes they talked, but mostly, they sat.     

Of course she knew what today was. The fifth of June.  Draco’s birthday.  And there wasn’t a chance he was getting away without her wishing many happy returns.  She even had a little cupcake for him.  It was silly, really.  But she wasn’t the best at cooking or baking, so she always picked up a little gourmet cupcake for each of her friends from a little shop in Muggle London on each of their birthdays.  And since she now thought of Draco as one of her friends, well…it only stood to reason that he’d get his own cupcake as well. She didn’t know why she hadn’t done before.    

She could always give it to him over lunch.  

Ron and Harry hadn’t liked it at first.  Her easy camaraderie with their old school nemesis.  Especially someone who’d literally caused her strife and tears.  Not to mention how much pain his relatives had inflicted on her.  

But while Hermione wasn’t the type to forget malicious behavior, she was the type to forgive if it was warranted.  And Malfoy had more than apologized for his behavior.  AND his relatives’ as well.  

On the day she rented him the office space upstairs, he’d come in expecting to be turned down.  His rounded shoulders and long face had told her that much.  Still, though.  He’d apologized.  He’d reached out to touch her hand and then thought better of it.  He’d looked her right in the eye, though.  She’d felt it in her bones.  His sincerity.  

As if his heartfelt apology that day wasn’t enough, he’d more than proven to her that he was putting his horrible past behind him over the past few years.  

Her mum had told her once that one’s nature was the first thought to be had in any situation.  One’s  _ character _ was how one reacted to that first thought and how one’s actions were affected by it.  Draco’s nature was rotten, that was true.  He couldn’t help it, with a father as horrible as he had.  But his character?  His character had evolved.  And it was his character with which she was impressed.  

Lunchtime came and went, with nary a moment to run upstairs and see Draco.  She did look up around one-thirty to see him slipping a white paper bag from the sandwich shop where they usually spent their lunch hour onto the shelf beneath the cash register.  She shot him a look of gratitude and he waved on his way out.  

She ate the sandwich a bite at a time between customers.  There must have been an article posted on Ariana Ezebine’s 16th century romance novels in one of the magazines or something, because she’d been selling them as quickly as she could pull them from the back room.  She might think to call one of the publishers later…perhaps they could put out some new editions.  She did love the business, but there were only so many of the older copies.  

By the time she was able to make her way up the stairs to Malfoy’s office, it was dark outside.  She hadn’t noticed him leaving, though, so she assumed he was still upstairs.  There wasn’t a fireplace, so there was no Floo connection.  He’d have to come down to her back room to use the Floo.  He never did, though.  He walked everywhere.

She really tried not to read into how much of his routine she’d memorized.  It was starting to look desperate.

She absolutely did not fancy Draco Malfoy.  They were friends.  That was all.  Close friends.       

She heard voices in his office, so she waited patiently on the stair landing.  Their tone was rather obvious as the ends of a conversation.  Plus, they kept walking slowly closer to the door.  

The door opened and she was brought face to face with two more of Draco’s fellow Slytherins from their year at Hogwarts.  Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott.  

Blaise grinned widely when he saw her, while Theo frowned as if trying to place who she was.  

“Hermione Granger!” Blaise greeted her.  “Bloody hell, you haven’t changed a bit have you?”  

She pressed her lips together as her hand went up into her hair.  Still frizzy and bushy as ever. Worse as of late, due to the wet weather they’d been having.  Sometimes, she braided it, but it really was a chore to comb all of it every single day.  “It isn’t possible  _ not _ to have changed, Mr. Zabini…” She smiled in what she hoped was an even and decidedly not manic expression.  

“It’s a compliment, love.  You look as young as you did when we graduated.”  

“And you…you are just as I remembered you too,” she countered.  Not a lie.  He was a back-handed slime of a man, the same as he’d been as a boy.  

Theo still hadn’t spoken, he merely folded his arms and looked over her shoulder like she wasn’t there.  Not that she minded one bit.  She’d rather not have to deal with either of them, but one was better than two in this case.  

“What’s this, then?” He reached down for the cupcake box in her hand.  

She yanked it back, turning slightly.  “It’s rude to take things that don’t belong to you…” she chastised, chancing a look over his shoulder into Draco’s office.  

“This for Malfoy, then?  Awww, lookit that, Nott.  She remembered our boy’s birthday. Isn’t it adorable?”

Hermione tried to will the blush out of her cheeks.    

“I suppose…” Theo looked down at his watch.  “Is he ready yet?  I have a meeting with a client at eight tomorrow morning...”  

Draco appeared behind them at the door, closing it and locking it behind him.  He took one look around the small entryway before his gaze zeroed in on Hermione.  She felt more at ease with him here.  

She held out the box towards him.  “Many happy returns, Draco.”  

Blaise cooed annoyingly and snatched it out of Draco’s hand the second she’d handed it over.  It bothered her more than it should have.  “Oh, it’s a sweet, how…sweet!” he crooned.  

Draco rolled his eyes, snatching it back.  “Grow up, Zabini.  Thanks, Granger.”  

He was obviously going out with his friends for his birthday, and she was keeping them from it.  She was disappointed by the knowledge, she’d been hoping to speak with him a little before he left.  She rather enjoyed their talks.  But this wasn’t about her.  It was Draco’s birthday.  And he was free to spend it any way he chose.    

She smiled tightly.  “Have a good night…sorry to interrupt…just couldn’t find the time to run that up earlier…”

The look in his eyes softened slightly.  “Thanks…it looks…” He looked at both of his companions before answering.  “Looks really great.”  

“I’ll leave you to it, then…”  

“Oy, Hermione.  Why don’t you come along?” Zabini asked, looking back and forth between both her and Draco, an amused expression on his face.    

“Oh no, no…” She shook her head.  No matter how close she and Draco had become, she wasn’t going to go out drinking with Zabini and Nott.  Just as Draco wasn’t about to come spend time with Ron and Harry.  “You all have fun.”  She turned and hurried down the stairs, slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaving the building.  She couldn’t get home fast enough.  

* * *

 

Draco watched Granger leave, watched her practically bolt from the door and sighed inwardly.  

“Sorry, mate.  I tried.” Blaise shrugged.  “Guess she’s not interested.”  

“Of course she’s not interested.  She didn’t want to spend her evening with an arsehole who used to make fun of her in school…and I’m not talking about  _ me _ .”

“Calm down, Malfoy.  Save something for the gentleman’s club…you know those ladies there like being sweet-talked too…”  

He shook his head, looking down at the white box in his hand.  She’d gotten him something.  A single cupcake.  Labeled ‘Death by Chocolate’.  The corner of his mouth twitched at that.  She’d gone to some shop in Muggle London to get him something.  A special trip.  

And these bloody morons hadn’t even come to visit for his birthday.  They’d come in to drop off some of their payroll information for their law firm and remembered on a whim.  He no more wanted to go to any ‘gentleman’s club’ with them than he wanted to pull out his own teeth one at a time.  

He  _ wanted _ to go thank the one person in his life besides Mother who had not only remembered his birthday, but had taken time out of her day to do something for him. 

“I’m going home,” he announced, waving his hand in front of him so they’d walk out ahead.  

“What?  Listen, it’s going to be fun…there’s this one girl who will—”  

Draco shook his head.  “No thanks…maybe another time.”  

Blaise agreed, and Theo was already gone, apparated out.  He almost laughed at how quickly Nott had jumped ship.  

He turned down the street with another curt wave, walking off in the direction of Granger’s house.  He’d only been there once, and never inside, but he remembered the general direction of its location.  

It was a good ten minute walk from the office, but it afforded him the quiet he needed to figure what he was going to say to her.  

Ten minutes wasn’t a long time at all when one was trying to plan the perfect thing to say.  He wasn’t sure why it needed to be perfect, but he didn’t really question himself.  Like he said, there wasn’t time.  

When he arrived, he knocked on the door, his heart in his throat as he waited for her to answer it.  She had flowers in the flower beds.  Some little pink things that screamed conformity.  A quick glance up the block confirmed it.  The same flowers in every flower bed.  Of course she hadn’t picked them.  She’d have picked something useful.  Borage.  Or lavender.  Not whatever these froofy pink things were.

How had he gotten here, exactly?  How did he know what kind of bloody flowers Hermione Granger would choose for her flower beds?      

She answered the door, obviously surprised to see him there.    She had her hair pulled back into an absolute mess of a bun on the back of her head.  She had changed into some sort of Muggle clothes —grey pants and a green shirt— she was barefoot. The smell of food wafted through the door.  

He wouldn’t keep her long.  

“I just wanted to thank you properly for this…” He raised the box in his hand.  “So thank you, Granger.”  

“You thanked me at the shop, Malfoy.”  

“I know, but…Zabini was there…and Nott, and they sort of…ruined it…” he finished lamely.  

“I thought you were going out for your birthday.”  

He shook his head.  “They asked me to, but I…I didn’t want to…”  

She tilted her head slightly, shifting over to her other hip.  “Are you hungry?” 

He frowned, “What?”  

“Hungry?  Do you want dinner?”  She gestured over her shoulder.  “I cooked…chicken and potatoes…it’s not very fancy or anything, but…”  

“If I’m not intruding…I would like that very much.”  

She stepped back from the door, “You’re not intruding.  It’s just me and Crookshanks.”

He stepped up into her foyer, wiping his feet on her doormat before entering.  He ran his hand through his hair nervously.  “Sorry I didn’t bring anything…” He looked down at the box in his hand.  “If you don’t mind sharing, we can split this…” he offered.  

“Nonsense…that’s your birthday gift.”  

He smiled.  “I don’t mind sharing it with  _ you _ , Granger.”  

* * *

 

Hermione felt strangely on edge with Draco here.  It had nothing to do with him, it was the intimacy of letting him see where she lived. She’d be this way with anyone who came over for the first time.  

Wouldn’t she?  

Dinner went well.  He made a few wry jokes about choking to death on a bit of potato, but had promptly cleaned his plate afterward.  He’d helped with the dishes and was now seated on her sofa.  A dark splotch on the sage and mauve floral upholstery.  

Apparently,  _ she _ was the only one who was on edge.  Crookshanks had taken up residence on his lap, coercing him into scratching his head on a semi-permanent basis.  

She had to laugh at the image.  Draco was practically pinned to the couch by her cat’s massive body.   

He chuckled.  “I think my legs are dead now…” he thumped one on her floor for effect, which of course, scared Crookshanks, who bolted out of the room.  Draco breathed a sigh of relief and stretched both of his legs out in front of him.  

Hermione pulled both of hers up beside her in the chair across the room.  “If I had known you were coming over, I’d have made something…else for dinner.”  

He smirked.  “Wouldn’t want you to strain yourself, Granger.”  

She rolled her eyes.  “I’d like to see  _ you _ do better.”  

He shrugged.  “I dunno, I probably could.”  

“Right,” she scoffed.  

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“What, you’re going to make me dinner now?”   

“If you want.  Whenever you want.”  

Her mouth fell open and he immediately started backtracking.  

“I…I just mean…hypothetically, I could out cook you any day…I didn’t mean I was…I wasn’t…it wasn’t…”  

“It’s fine, Malfoy.  I’m sure you THINK you can do better than me.  And that’s all that matters.”  She winked knowingly, which only seemed to infuriate him more. 

He jumped up, making his way to the kitchen.  “Right then, I’ll show you right now.”  

“We literally just ate…”  

He turned, looking her up and down with scrutiny.  “You could stand to eat more.”  

She squawked indignantly.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”  

“Exactly what it sounded like.”  

“Really?  Because it seemed like you were implying that I’m not…I’m not…” she gestured towards herself.  “I haven’t had any complaints.”  

“And you still haven’t had any,” he countered.  “Just stating the obvious…split that cupcake with me.”  

“That I’m too skinny?” she asked, ignoring his request. 

“You’re not too  _ anything _ , Granger.  You’re perfectly fine.  Split that cupcake with me.”  

“Evidently not…evidently, I’m not curvy enough to tempt you.”  

He flicked out his wand, bringing the cupcake floating over between them.  “Split this with me.”  

She blinked.  “I told you, that’s your…”  

“Split this with me so I have something else to concentrate on besides proving to you that you are  _ very _ tempting…”

Her mouth went dry and she blinked as he dipped his finger in the frosting, offering it out in front of him.  

She didn’t think.  Couldn’t.  She just dipped her head down to lick the frosting off his finger.  

“That’s not very helpful, Granger.”  

She gulped and leaned forward again, pressing her lips to his and praying she wasn’t misreading this.  

He tilted his head, kissing her back in earnest.  She gripped his lapels and gasped when his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer.  The other was still holding the blasted cupcake. 

She’d never really noticed just how  _ tall _ he was.  He towered over her, his arm encircling her waist as he kissed her, partially dipped back like in those classic movies her parents liked to watch.  

She broke off the kiss, only to start it back up again, slightly surprised at how different he was than she thought he’d be.  His lips were gentler than she’d expected.  Not that she’d been imagining this at all.  Nope, not at all.   She was lying to herself.  It was becoming as much of a problem as her attraction to Draco.  An attraction she could now finally admit to…now that they were kissing…amongst other things.  

She reached down to take the cupcake from his hand.  “I’m not going to be the only one eating this…”  she dipped two fingers into the frosting and down into the cake itself, pulling out a piece of it.  She lifted it, mindful of the crumbs falling before she stuffed it into his waiting mouth.  

He sucked on her fingers, his tongue curling around them as she pulled away.  The frosting was on his lips and this was making the biggest mess in the world, but she didn’t really care.  

She turned slightly, and he pressed her against the kitchen counter.  His hips were flush against hers.  She could feel him.  Feel.  Him.  He licked his lips and pulled her fingers up to his mouth again. His tongue licked at the frosting still there.  His hands were on the hem of her shirt, so she set the cupcake down on the counter beside her and pulled her fingers out of his mouth so she could lift her arms.  The fabric cleared her head and was tossed somewhere on the floor.  She didn’t care where.   

She yanked at his tie with one hand, loosening it and slipping it up and over his head.  It joined her shirt on the floor.  His eyes drank her in, the pale blue lace of her bra.  “Are you certain about this, Granger?” He eased off her, shifting his weight back as he took a small step away from her.    

She’d honestly never been more sure of anything in her life.   

“Are you?” she asked instead of answering, looking up to meet his gaze.  Grey eyes, sharp and dark, peered back.  She inhaled slowly as his fingers dragged up her abdomen.  He was warm.  Almost hot. His scent swam around her.  Sage and cedar.      

His eyes scanned her face, down to her lips as he lifted his hands to undo his shirt-sleeves.  “I asked you first.”  

“Come here,” she murmured, reaching for him.  She hooked her fingers in his belt, tugging him back closer.  

“I will…if you tell me you’re certain about this.”  

“I’m very, very certain about this…I’ve been…” she trailed off as he leaned forward, planting his hands on either side of her hips.  

“You’ve been what?”  

“You answer me first…” she whispered.  “Are  _ you _ certain about this?”   

“Granger…you could have had me at any time with a single word.”

She arched forward, the heat from his skin washing over her as she pressed her breasts against him.  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands tangled in his hair as she murmured in his ear.  “Tell me the word…”  

“Fuck…” he mumbled, a curse more than an answer, before brushing his lips against hers.  

“It’s a bit on the nose, but okay…” she teased, placing her hands on the counter and hopping up so she could be more on eye level with him.    

He smirked, reaching over to her left, where the cupcake sat on the counter beside her.  He dipped his fingers in and then brought them up to slip into her mouth.  Watching intently as she sucked on them, licking them clean while his eyes darkened even more. She spread her knees and he stepped between them, pressing his lips to her throat, his fingers still in her mouth.  He pulled them out, moving up to kiss at her open mouth.  His teeth nipped at her bottom lip.     

She reached for the cupcake next, it was mostly gone, destroyed by their rough treatment of it.  But there was enough frosting left to smear a line down from her throat to the tops of her breasts.  She arched an eyebrow, sucking her fingers into her mouth.    He smirked and leaned down.  

She inhaled sharply at the feel of his lips on her breasts. His tongue laving up before dipping beneath the lace cup of her bra.   Her nipples stiffened to hard peaks and she tried not to whimper.  

He kissed his way up her throat, over her jaw and settling on her lips again. He tasted like chocolate.  And a touch of the wine they’d had with dinner. Her hands slid up his torso, to settle on his shirt buttons. She undid them one at a time.  She was bombarded with the scent of his cologne…not too much, he always wore just enough.   

She got the shirt unbuttoned, but he started kissing down her body before she could get it off him completely.  He pulled her forward on the counter. He tugged down on her yoga pants, pulling them over her hips and tossing them onto the floor.  It was at this crucial moment that Hermione recalled not putting on any underwear when she’d changed clothes earlier.    

He swore softly, his fingertips grazing her thighs before he spread them apart again.  “You’ve been without knickers for this entire evening? Fuck me, you’re perfect…”  

She was going to respond…to say something to the contrary, but she didn’t have a chance to.  He spread her knees and bent down between them.  The only sound she could make was a breathy gasp as his tongue flicked between her folds, slowly licking her open.  

He groaned when she reached down to run her fingers through his hair, his tongue fluttering right against her clit and making it very difficult to stay quiet.  He propped her legs up over his shoulders and gently teased around her opening with his fingers.  He pressed two slowly up inside her, pressing just  _ so _ and making her cry out.  

He seemed to like the sound, repeating the action until her thighs started to shake.

She tried not to think about how utterly unbelievable this was.  She’d come home today thinking she was going to have another night alone.  And now she was…she was…

“Oh…Draco…” she moaned, her toes curling as he sucked her clit between his lips. His tongue flicked against it in time with the thrusts of his hand.    

Her thighs clenched around his head as she rolled right over the edge, squeezing his fingers hard when she came.  

He brought her back down, his tongue swirling slowly as he withdrew.  He straightened his back, wiped his mouth and cracked his knuckles before placing both hands on either side of her hips again.   

“You know…I feel slightly over dressed…” he said, smirking as she moved to help him with that conundrum.  He shrugged out of the shirt and she let her hands explore his bare chest.    

“You  _ are _ slightly overdressed…you must not have gotten the notice…” she teased.  She tugged on his belt, undoing it and the button on his trousers.  Her hand brushed over him, her thumb rubbing up his stiff length.  

His head dropped to her shoulder, his lips seeking her skin as she pushed his trousers down over his hips.  She rubbed him again in his underpants, running her thumb up his hard length.  

“ _ Hermione _ …” he pleaded, his hips pressing into her hand.  “You’re going to drive me mad…”  

She smiled, turning her head to kiss his neck as she hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pushed his underpants down over his hips.  His erection sprang free, bobbing slightly.  He lifted her onto his front, turning and pressing her against the wall.  

His mouth moved over her throat as he lined himself up, pressing into her slowly.  His breath hissed out right beside her ear.  “Fuck, Hermione…” he mumbled. 

She couldn’t help but preen a bit.  

The slight stretch from his size took some getting used to, but he’d ensured that she was well and ready for him and for that, she was thankful.  

There was a slight burn as he bottomed out, but he paused once he got there, his lips brushing gently over her skin as he braced her back against the wall.  “You alright?” 

She hummed, nodding and wrapping her legs more tightly around his waist as he pulled out to thrust into her again.  “Are you?”’  

“Merlin, yes…” He snapped his hips forward and back, filling her with every thrust.  

She watched him, watched his brow furrow, his eyes fight to stay open.  His hair fell into his face, his arms tensed as he held her.  She rocked with him, meeting his hips, feeling the blunt pressure of his cock inside her.  Pressing up into her in just the right place.  “Draco…” she gasped, feeling her muscles begin to tighten again.  She reached down to rub at her clit, feeling the burn of impending orgasm once more.  “Draco…”  

He was the one who moaned when she came.  When her walls gripped and fluttered around him.  His thrusting became erratic, his hips pumped into her frantically and he soon followed her.  Her name was on his lips at the end, just a whisper.  “ _ Hermione… _ ”

She wasn’t exactly sure how they both ended up on the floor, except that they did.  Her back was against the wall and her legs were still wrapped around his waist. She huffed out a tired laugh, which he returned.   

“Fuck, Granger…” He muttered only one more word.  “Amazing.”  

* * *

 

While it hadn’t started out that way, Draco had to say this was his favourite birthday.  

Favourite.  

_ “Amazing.” _

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on [tumblr](http://dresupi.tumblr.com/), if that's a thing you do. ;)


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